Educating Adam
by Sth10
Summary: Fifth part of the Father And Son series. As Adam Boulton takes the first steps of his education, dad John battles to discover the identity of a drugs dealer who is literally dealing death.
1. Default Chapter

Fifth part of the Father And Son series. As Adam Boulton takes his first steps of his education, dad John battles to discover the identity of a drugs dealer who is literally dealing death.

**EDUCATING ADAM **

Ten minutes until the alarm went off. Ten precious minutes of peace, just lying there under the warm duvet, with Claire wrapped in his arms. John Boulton smiled to himself and shifted closer to his sleeping wife. Life really couldn't get any better for him. He'd never felt like that before, so happy, so settled… so loved…

He allowed his eyes to shut again and pulled the duvet up around his chin as he began to drift back off into that wonderfully calm land of sleep.

_Thud, thud, thud_. That familiar sound of bare feet pounding across the landing towards their room. John popped one eye open, as the giggle that never failed to warm his heart reached his ears. As he watched, the doorknob started to turn and the door was thrown open with gusto. John caught a glimpse of blue Pokemon pyjamas.

"Dad! Wake up!"

The bed bounced as a small body hurled himself onto the end and crawled up under the duvet to emerge at the top, pushing in between husband and wife. A mop of golden hair flopped down onto the pillow next to John, a pair of hazel eyes gazing adoringly across at him. Adam was awake.

"Time to get up, Dad!" he announced.

"Not yet, mate."

"Now, Dad!" Adam gave up and turned his attention on his mother. "Mum, wake up!"

John's face broke into a helpless grin as Adam proceeded to poke Claire with his finger, determined not to be ignored. Claire mumbled something and turned over, exhausted after spending half the night trying to persuade her boundlessly energetic three-year-old to go to sleep.

"Dad, Mum's not getting up!" Adam turned accusingly to John, sitting up.

"Why don't you just sod off back to bed?"

Adam grinned, onto that interesting word like a shot. "Sod off!"

John groaned to himself. He really did have to learn to keep his mouth shut around his son, fast becoming a bright kid who was able to pick up almost anything, including words he shouldn't.

"Come here, you."

Adam slipped back under the duvet to snuggle up against his dad, small arms wrapping round John's neck in a natural gesture of affection. "Time to get up."

How did he manage to be so enthusiastic at getting up at 6:30am? John always seemed to find himself wondering at his son's enthusiasm and love for just about everything in his life. Everything was so exciting to Ad. It made John feel warm inside, just watching his son take in everything around him, fascinated by it all.

His precious ten minutes had been lost. The alarm set off beeping. Adam bounced up again in delight. "Time to get up now, Dad!"

"Turn the alarm off, then."

Giggling away, Adam proceeded to punch every button on the digital clock until he found the one that switched the alarm off. He beamed back at John. "Found it!"

"Good lad."

Adam pointed to Claire. "Mum's awake!"

Claire rolled over on hearing her son's voice, unable to help smiling. "Morning, sweetheart." She dropped a kiss on his blond mop, gently brushing his locks back off his forehead.

"Going to work with Dad today!"

"No, you're not, mister. You're going to nursery."

Adam wasn't convinced by that and shook his head emphatically. "Work. Gonna see Uncle Don."

"Uncle Don's not gonna be there."

"Oh, let him come, Claire." John propped himself up on one elbow. "Meadows is off on that course today and Deakin's in court with you. He'll be fine in the office."

He gently ruffled his son's hair, relishing the feel of Adam's arms as they were flung round his neck again. "Coming with you, Dad?"

"Yeah, mate. Later."

"Now, Dad!"

John looked up at the ceiling. How did the kid manage to have so much energy, even at that time in the morning?

"Dad, get up!" Adam hurled himself off the bed and dived for the door. They heard him running back into his own room to find his clothes.

Claire looked across at John, infected by the gorgeous smile that he couldn't wipe off his face. John adored his son. Adam couldn't have wished for a better dad, or one that loved him any more. Claire knew that they'd be lost without each other now. She couldn't imagine separating them for any length of time. The bond between them was unbreakable.

"You want him causing chaos in the office all day?"

John's eyes sparkled. He didn't have to say how much he loved having his son with him. "He'll spend half his time in rec. room playing pool with uniform."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

X X X

"I wanna drive the car, Dad!"

"You can't. You're too young." John attempted for the fifth time to buckle his son's seat belt as Adam fought to grab the gearstick. "Ad, don't do that!"

"Why not?" He asked that question at least a million times a day.

John finally got the belt in place. "Because I said so." _Why didn't I just take him to the nursery?_ But as he glanced at his son, his heart melted. Why palm him off on some woman when he could have him with him all day?

The drive to the nick seemed to take twice as long as usual, with Adam wanting to ask questions on almost everything he saw, from a pigeon to a fire engine. He was out of the car the second John parked, running to greet Tony Stamp and Nick Klein as they walked down the ramp.

"You lost something, sarge?" Tony swept Adam up into his arms, while Nick stuck his hat on the kid's golden mop.

John flicked the locking on the car and jogged across the yard. "I'll have to cuff him to the steering wheel one day."

"Thought you only did that to scrotes," Nick put in wickedly.

Tony handed the boy over with a grin. "You're mad about him really."

John couldn't help but smile as he took Adam. "Yeah. Guess I am. See you later, lads."

Adam reluctantly gave Nick his hat back and allowed his dad to carry him up to the back entrance.

"Code, Dad!"

John grinned. "Go on, then."

He held him down and directed his small fingers over the numbers so Adam could punch in the unlock code. His son wriggled down as the door swung open and ran ahead of him into the bustling maze of corridors. John could do nothing but follow him, knowing his son could lead him to the end of the Earth and he would still follow.

The CID office buzzed with the familiar noise of early-morning chatter, as the detectives exchanged news, gossip and last night's sports results. Adam sprinted in ahead of his dad, shoving the door back on its hinges and stopping in the middle of the office, knowing from experience that he would instantly be the centre of attention, something which he loved.

"Uncle Don!"

Don swung his chair to face his godson. "Hey, Ad! Gimme five, mate!"

Adam willing jumped up to slap palms with the DS, beaming all over his face. John leant in the doorway as his son ran round the office, high-fiving his uncles and Kerry. Duncan, Mickey, Danny, Don, even the absent Rod were all family to Adam, his real relations as far as he was concerned. He adored them all, just as much as they adored him. One thing John knew was that Adam would never be short of people who loved him.

As his dad crossed to get a much-needed coffee, Adam hurled himself at his Uncle Mickey and waited until Mickey lifted him up to sit on the edge of his desk.

"Wanna Coke, Ad?" He offered his half-empty can.

"Yeah!"

"Mickey, don't give him that crap!" John shouted over.

"Crap!" Adam yelled out.

The office rocked with laughter. Adam grinned round and sipped his Coke, looking straight at his dad as if to say '_So there, I'm having it'._ Don winked knowingly at John.

"Chip off the old block, eh, mate?"

"Shut it, Beech," John retorted playfully.

Don just grinned. "Hey, Ad. You wanna play on the computer?"

"Solitaire?"

"Yeah. If you want."

Adam was scrambling off Mickey's desk in a flash and running across to the computer, still clutching his Coke. He climbed up to sit on Don's knee, helpfully pressing whatever he could reach on the keyboard as Don attempted to log on.

"Going to Uncle Mickey's tonight." Adam looked imploringly at Mickey. He never seemed to have a favourite uncle; in his eyes they all came in useful for different things. Mickey, he had learnt, was the best to get junk food out of and to stay up all night playing on the Playstation with.

"No chance, mate," John informed him.

"Am!" Adam grinned at Mickey. "Tell Dad, Uncle Mickey!"

"I hate being called Uncle," Mickey moaned at John. "Makes me feel like I'm forty or something."

"Uncle Mickey!" Adam roared, aware that he wasn't being paid attention too. He gave up on the computer and leapt down, running back across to Mickey. "Coming to yours!"

"Not tonight, Ad. I'm working." Mickey was getting skilful at avoiding awkward situations with the kid.

"I'll work too!"

"You will not." John reached over and neatly took his son's Coke before Adam spilt it all over the floor. "Look, Uncle Duncan's gonna take you down you to play pool, yeah?"

Duncan was only too eager to abandon his paperwork. "Yeah. C'mon, Adam."

"Unca Dunca!" Adam crowed, pleased with his new nickname for the Glaswegian DC.

Duncan glared at Mickey, as the younger officer doubled over laughing. "I'll kill you if you teach him anything else like that!"

"Kill you!" Adam yelled out.

He ran off ahead of Duncan towards the stairs, with barely a glance back at his dad. All the officers could hear was "Kill you!" until the double doors swung shut behind the two.

"Joys of kids, eh, John?" Don commented.

"Yeah, whatever." John snorted with a grin, as the man he thought of as his brother landed a mock punch to his shoulder. "Right, better at least pretend I'm interested in working. What's been happenin' then?"

"There was another OD over night," Kerry called across. "A swimmer this time, getting ready to try out for the national team."

"Same sports centre?"

"Yep. The Chelmsford."

Don whistled through his teeth. "Posh place, that. You won't even get a sniff at membership unless you drive a Jag and earn over £100 grand a year."

John grinned. "I wondered why they turned me down." He'd never been near the place and had never had any inclination too. In his eyes, a sports centre didn't need oak-panelled changing rooms and membership fees of nearly a grand a year to be good. He was perfectly happy being common at the local, and very normal, leisure centre.

He wandered over to the incident board. "How many's that now?"

"Three. A weight-lifter, a runner and the swimmer."

"Has forensics got back to us yet?"

"Yeah, same as the other two. Typical performance-enhancing steroids, mixed with poor quality amphetamines, were found in his blood stream. He died of a massive heart attack…"

"Caused by the mixing," John finished for her. "Stupid bastard." He had little sympathy for athletes that were prepared to go to such lengths to cheat and win. He'd always hated any sort of cheating in sport.

"Tactful as ever, Jonathan," Don piped up.

John just stared at the incident board. "We've gotta find out who's selling these bloody things..."

"That's the usual idea." Don was in one of his sarcastic moods.

"Don, will you shut up?" John shook his head. "Someone's dealing death out there."

X X X

"Daaaad!"

"Ad, come out of there!"

His son hurtled back out of the shower area into the main part of the changing rooms. He'd grown to love accompanying John down to the leisure centre and watching him work out in the gym. Even better when Uncle Rod showed up for a session; Rod always let him try out the running machine. Adam loved that, slipping along behind Rod, clinging to his uncle's waist.

"Dad!"

"What, Ad?" John had his mind on other things, wondering how long it would be before the Death Drugs, as he had christened them, would find their way into circulation at Westview. He found he worried so much more about those sort of things now he had Adam, whereas once he'd have just brushed them off and accepted them as part of the world he lived in. Christ, things had changed so much.

"Wanna go in the big pool today!" Adam didn't seem to notice his dad's preoccupation.

John threw his kit bag into the locker and closed the door, determined to forget about anything work-related for a couple of hours. It was only a few weeks ago that Adam had caught sight of the pool on their way through to the gym. Enthralled by the blue glint of the water, he'd begged, argued and moaned all the way through John's workout session until he'd finally given in and promised to take him in the pool.

Ad had dragged him back the next day, proud as hell with his brand new swimming shorts, identical to John's and had shown no hesitation in hurling himself into the toddler's pool. John had spent the whole of the first time trying to stop his enthusiastic son from drowning himself trying to sink under the surface. Ad had hardly been out of the water since then, fascinated by his new activity, which admittedly he was showing real aptitude for. He'd already ditched his armbands, preferring to try and stay afloat by himself. John could see his son was going to be just as determined as he was.

"Why d'you wanna go in there?"

"Coz it's big!"

John grinned as his son stopped running around to stand imploringly in front of him; hair dripping after he'd turned the shower on himself. "You really wanna?"

"Yeah!" Adam was eager to progress to the next step of the sport. John had no doubt that within a couple of months his son would be swimming like a fish.

He could never say no. "Okay, then. We'll give it a go."

He had to stop his son from throwing himself straight into the full-sized pool, as he did with the toddler's. Adam bounced about impatiently as John vaulted into the water and reached up to lift him down.

"Dad, it's cold!" Adam yelped and clung round his dad's neck as the water lapped around his stomach.

John was amused by his son's reaction. It was the first time Adam had shown any hesitation in anything before. He always seemed so fearless.

"You'll warm up in a minute."

Adam frowned down at the water, then slowly loosened his hold on John. He stretched his legs down, trying to touch the bottom of the pool.

"I can't stand up, Dad!"

"Better not let go of me, then."

Adam seemed to think about that statement for a minute. Then, of course, he let go. John grabbed him before he went under.

"I knew this was a bad idea."

"It's fun!" Adam yelled out, hitting the surface with his outstretched palms, screaming with laughter as he splashed his dad. Any fear he might have had melted and John saw that familiar look of excitement shining in his son's eyes.

"Swim, Dad! Wanna swim!" Adam was getting into it.

"Yeah? You wanna swim? Do ya!" John grabbed his son and swung him round in the water. Adam screamed with laughter and splashed him back.

John sank lower in the pool, and lifted Adam up so his son clung round his neck again. Adam yelled out in pure elation as his dad pushed off from the side and shot off along the length of the pool with easy, powerful strokes. Despite the encumbrance of the cheering Adam, he continued to slice through the water with natural grace, smooth and strong as he headed for the far end of the pool. He'd loved swimming since the tender age of five, when Mike had taught him how to do front crawl.

"Faster, Dad, faster!" Adam yelled, screaming with laughter as tiny droplets of water splashed against his face. He couldn't be happier than when he was just spending some quality time with his dad.

John felt his heart leap at the pure enjoyment in his son's voice. He didn't think life could get much better. Surely there was no father in the world that loved his son as much as he loved Ad. He knew the bond between them would span eternity, and then some.

He couldn't help but think of his own father. He couldn't imagine Jack ever taking him swimming. He'd taken him to the dogs a couple of times before everything had started, but that was it. He'd never been interested in his youngest son's early sporting prowess. Even if they had shared some good memories, all those happy times had been obscured years ago in John's mind by the reminders of the bad ones…

Adam's yells brought him sharply back to the present. The present, that was what mattered. And the future, not the past. John grinned, tossing his head to one side to catch a mouthful of air before plunging forward with new speed, much to the delight of his son.

X X X

John leant in the bedroom doorway, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it in the general direction of the wardrobe.

"What you readin'?"

Claire barely glanced up from the glossy leaflet-type booklet she was reading. "Prospectus."

"What?"

"You know. For schools."

John grinned. "Decided you didn't learn enough when you were there?"

"You're so bloody funny."

He crossed the room to drop his jeans on top of the shirt, before sliding into bed next to Claire.

"Here. Have a look." She pushed the leaflet at him.

He had a cursory glance, not particularly interested. "Prep school?"

"It's just an option."

"Option?" He wasn't paying much attention. Private fee-paying primary schools held no interest to him.

"John, you have realised that Ad's gonna be starting school in a few months?"

"Course I have!" Actually, it hadn't even entered his mind until then.

"Well, I think St Martin's would be great for him."

"He's not going to school with a bunch of stuck-up ponces in blazers!"

"Will you come out of the Middles Ages? Private schools aren't posh anymore. They're for normal kids, not bloody aristocrats!"

John scowled. "Not posh, loada crap. And what sorta name is St Martin's!"

"The fees aren't that bad. And Don's gonna pay, anyway." Claire ignored his argument, seeming set on the idea.

"It's not about the money!"

"What then?"

John knew he was being ganged-up on and he didn't like it. "I don't think he'll fit in at a private place."

"Why the hell not?" Claire demanded.

"Oh, come on! He's the most streetwise three-year-old I've ever met. How's he gonna feel if we put him with a bunch of kids who don't even know what crap means and who've spent their entire lives behind the walls of their bloody mansions! Ad's used to the real world."

"He wouldn't be if you didn't take him down the nick so much! He wouldn't be any different to the kids in that leaflet if you didn't show him how to arrest people and hit them with batons! And it doesn't help that _someone_ told him what dope is."

"He wanted to know!"

Claire looked heavenward. "I could kill you sometimes."

"I'm only thinking of Ad."

"So am I! What sort of education is he gonna get at a state school? The classes are huge, the teachers don't give a toss and the kids walk around with knives and broken bottles at break to nick dinner money!"

"My school was just like that! And I turned out all right!"

"You sure?" Claire couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, funny."

"You're just digging your heels in."

"I'm not!"

"You bloody are! You always do this if you don't know about something!"

John glared moodily at the prospectus. "He doesn't need to go private."

"John! Look, I went to private school. It's great, you get practically individual attention, the teachers are the best you can get. And Ad'll be able to do rugby…"

It hadn't escaped her attention that her son had become enthralled by the game since the first time John had tossed a rugby ball around with him. He'd taken to spending almost every weekend in front of the TV with John and Rod watching union matches and loved nothing more than when John took him down the park and taught him the basic skills. When his dad turned out for Ealing Rugby Club's 1st XV it was impossible to drag Adam away. No doubt they'd soon have another star player in family.

"Is that supposed to make me change my mind?" John wasn't going to be beaten down by that.

"Will you just read the prospectus?"

"Nope." John was determined not to give an inch.

"Do you give a toss about Ad's education!"

"Course!"

"Well, try and act like you do!"

John looked down at the prospectus. "Fine. I'll read it. Tomorrow…"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – For any non-English people, public schools in England are old, famous private schools, known for providing the best educations money can buy. Prep schools are fee-paying private primary schools for kids aged 4 to either 11 or 13.

CHAPTER 2

His coffee had gone stone cold. He'd barely had a sip of it. He'd been sitting in the canteen for an hour, untouched bacon sandwich in front of him, leafing through the glossy, attractive pages with picture after picture of a world he'd only been able to imagine as a kid.

"Not hungry?" He was distracted by Don, as his best mate grabbed the sandwich.

John scowled. "You want something?"

Don just sat down with Duncan and Mickey.

"Look, I'm just trying to have five minutes to myself…" John started.

Don reached over and took the prospectus. "What's this?"

"Prep school thing." John resigned himself to the fact he wasn't going to get rid of his mates.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Prep school? Don't royalty go to them?"

"Shut up, Mickey."

Don flicked through the pages. "Nice place. You and Claire interested in it?"

"Claire is. Think Ad's gonna _thrive _there."

"And you don't?"

"Look at it, Don. It's a whole different world to what Ad's used to."

"Seems all right to me."

"Don't you start!"

"Come on, sarge. I was at prep school," Duncan put in. "It's not as bad as you think it is. And they're not really posh."

"Yeah right."

"Is this about Adam or you?" Don asked.

"Who'd you think it's about!"

"You."

"What you on about?"

"Think about it, John! You never got an opportunity like this, did ya?"

John wasn't impressed. "You know I didn't."

"Wouldn't you have wanted one? Wouldn't you have grabbed the chance to get out of your school?"

Unsurprisingly, John refused to admit it. Don didn't need to hear the answer.

"Do you really want to deny Ad the chance? He's a bright kid. This place could give him what he needs to carry on like that."

"I know! I just don't want him to feel uncomfortable. I know I would."

"That's coz of the schools you went to. If Ad was there right from the start, he wouldn't know any different, he'd just accept it. There's no reason why he'd feel uncomfortable, John!"

"You're more set on it than Claire is."

"I just want Ad to have the best. And as I'm paying the fees, I reckon I should have an input."

John moved his spoon around in the cold coffee. "Whatever."

"Look, why don't you see what Ad's gotta say about it?" Mickey spoke up.

"What?"

"He's right, sarge," Duncan added. "Let him have a look at the prospectus. See if he wants to go round the place. He'll soon tell you whether he likes it or not."

John allowed himself to consider that idea. "You reckon?"

"Yeah. It's only fair he has a say," Don agreed. "I think he'll make the decision for you, mate."

X X X

"They've got a pool, Dad!"

"Yeah?"

Adam pounded his finger on the page. "And they do football! And I wanna play rugby!"

Don grinned across at Claire. He got up from his armchair and crouched down on the floor next to Adam.

"You like it, Ad?"

"Yeah!"

Claire glanced at John, sprawled across the couch watching his son. He just shrugged at her, his eyes smiling to let her know he was on the verge of breaking. She knew if Ad wanted to go to St Martin's, or any other school for that matter, he'd go if it killed John.

"We gonna have a look round, Dad!"

"If you want to."

"Can Uncle Don come?"

"Yeah."

"And Uncle Mickey?"

"No."

Adam continued to race through the pages. "It's big."

"Would you like to go to school there, Ad?" Claire asked.

"Can I play rugby?"

"Yeah."

"And go swimming? And play footie?"

"Yes, Ad."

Adam beamed. "Yep. I wanna go to school there."

X X X

"I'll get it!" The yell came as soon as the doorbell rang, accompanied by the sound of small, thumping feet as Adam hurled himself down the stairs.

John heard his son scrabble at the lock and drag the door open. He waited for the usual yell of elation.

"Uncle Rod!" Adam was bang on cue as ever.

"Hey, Rod. You know why I gave you a key, mate?" John yelled.

"I know! I've got it somewhere, honest!" Rod ambled through into the living room, with Adam clinging determinedly to him. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd last dropped round and his adopted nephew had obviously missed the macho, yet completely immature influence in his life.

John was amused. "Put him down, Ad."

"Got any sweets?" Adam looked expectantly at Rod, knowing exactly what normally happened when his uncle stopped by.

"Don't give him any, Rod," Claire interjected. "He's hyper enough as it is."

Rod ruffled Adam's mop of hair and sat down. "Sorry, mate."

Adam scowled, in the exact same way John did when he wasn't getting what he wanted. He plonked himself down onto the arm of Rod's chair and folded his arms across his chest, a mirror image of his father.

Rod leant forward to accept a can of lager from John. "He's getting more like you every day."

"That'd better be a compliment."

"So, what you been up to, Rod?" Claire asked.

"This and that. Been in Hamburg for a few days. Client had some urgent business; nearly ended up getting my head smashed in with a baseball bat."

John grinned. Rod had done well for himself since his departure from Sun Hill, landing a job with a renowned international protection firm who looked after a lot of high-class people. It paid well, judging by the Audi TT convertible his mate had invested in. His new pad was a flash and expensive rented apartment in London's Docklands five minutes from Canary Wharf. He never seemed to be short of money either, but he hadn't changed. He was still the same old Rod; vain, egoistic, charming; a good, loyal mate. And he was great with Ad. John was glad his mate had landed on his feet. He thought he deserved to.

"Never could learn to stay outta trouble, eh, Rod?"

"I did work with you."

Adam gave up sulking and clambered over to sit on Rod's knee.

"I hear you're gonna school, mate." Rod couldn't resist and handed over a packet of M&Ms.

Adam beamed and nodded enthusiastically. "Gonna play rugby." He turned his attention to the sweets.

"That's the only part he's interested in," Claire grinned.

"Didn't think you'd be up for prep, John."

"I'm not. Who told you, anyway?" John kept up his abrupt attitude on the subject, although he was starting to get bored with being the only one against the idea.

"Was talking to Mickey the other day."

That figured. Mickey and Rod had been mates since meeting for the first time at John and Claire's wedding. They'd discovered an equal love of booze, women and fast cars, and had been united in hatred for being the butt of CID jokes, the perfect basis for a friendship in their books. Mickey tended to see Rod more often than the others did now.

"Anyway, it couldn't be that bad." Rod tugged at the ring pull on his lager. "Give Ad a good start and all that."

"Can we change the subject, please?"

"Did you go to private school, Rod?" Claire asked

"Yeah." He hung his head slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, as he always did when he felt awkward. "I, uh, I went to Winchester College."

John nearly choked on his own drink on hearing his friend had attended such a renowned public school. "You!"

"Yeah!" Rod was automatically defensive. "My dad was loaded, if you must know. After he walked out, he paid for me and my brother to go to school."

"But you, at a place like Winchester." John was nearly dying trying not to laugh.

"Knock it off." Rod scowled, momentarily making his model-handsome face thunderous.

"Sorry, mate."

Rod allowed himself to relax. "So, what's this prep school like?"

"It's in Hounslow, called St Martin's, all-boys. Looks all right." John wasn't going into details.

"It's perfect." Claire gave her husband a glare. "The class sizes are small, there's great sports opportunities and they always take into account what the boys want."

"Is it right Don's paying the fees?"

"Yeah."

"What's with that, then?"

Claire shrugged innocently. "S'pose he just wanted to do it for Ad."

Rod sipped his lager and lost interest in the conversation. "So, John, Mickey tells me someone's going around dealing death…"


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

John shuffled his feet awkwardly, scuffing his shoes against the gravel. He didn't like this. And not only because Claire had literally dragged him out of the office just when he was right in the middle of trying to work out any more links between the Death Drug victims.

"John, what's the matter with you?" Claire hissed sharply in his ear. "You're being worse than Ad."

John shoved his hands deep into his suit trouser pockets. He hoped Don would hurry up and arrive. "I feel like a moron."

"Why!"

"Look at this place, Claire. I just don't feel right…"

Claire followed her husband's gaze up to the ivy-clad main building of St Martin's, laid out in an H shape with the middle partition of two stories, and the arms of the H three stories. To her it was beautiful, made of red bricks and sandstone, somehow made to look even better with age. To John, it was just posh, reminded him of a stately home or something.

He looked down at Adam, standing close by his side. His son showed no signs of being intimidated by the size of the place. He was extrovert as ever, eyes darting round, taking in everything in his new surroundings. He looked more comfortable than John did

"It's big, innit, Dad?"

"Yeah, mate." John forced a smile for Adam's sake.

"Hey, Ad! You like it?" The familiar voice sounded welcomingly natural to John in the uncomfortable surroundings. He turned to see Don sauntering across from his car to join them.

"Innit cool, Uncle Don?" Adam hurled himself at his uncle.

"You bet. Think you'll be happy here?"

Adam nodded with all the enthusiasm in the world.

"Hang on, we've not even looked round yet!" John flashed his best mate a look.

Don merely clapped him on the shoulder. "Relax, mate. It'll all be over in an hour. Then you won't have to come back till the parents evening."

John couldn't stop the grin that crossed his face. Even as Don spoke he felt himself relax slightly. Everything seemed easier to handle when his best mate was around.

"Yeah. Whatever, mate."

Don winked at Adam. "I think your dad's comin' round, Ad."

Adam beamed. He reached out to grab John's hand, tugging hard. "C'mon, Dad! I wanna go in!"

John allowed his son to lead him up the front steps. He felt Claire slip her arm through his as they entered the building.

"Remember it's for Ad."

He rolled his eyes, then immediately adopted his most innocent look when Claire's glare landed on him.

X X X

The headmaster was younger than John had expected, maybe in his mid-forties. And he wasn't posh, he didn't speak with the plumy vowels of an Eton-educated snob. Neither did he wear a head teacher's gown or a mortarboard. He appeared just a normal bloke. John had to look twice to make sure he actually was the Head. His mental picture of his son's future educator vanished, slightly to his disappointment. The Head being a prat had been his best argument against the school up until then.

He and Don stood awkwardly in the office doorway together, Adam in the middle of them. Claire looked despairingly at the ceiling and moved to shake hands with the Head.

"Claire Boulton. Pleased to meet you."

"Adrian Merchant."

"This is my husband John. And Don Beech, Adam's godfather."

The two men finally moved from the doorway to shake hands and take the seats they were offered.

"And this must be Adam." Merchant turned his full attention on Adam, standing there taking everything in.

"Yeah. Are you the headmaster?" As ever, shyness didn't occur to Adam.

"I am. My name's Mr Merchant."

Adam stuck out a small hand in the exact same way he'd seen his father do. Claire nearly killed herself laughing as she saw the familiar, confident throw-down of her son's hand in way of greeting. Merchant merely smiled and shook hands as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Very nice to meet you, Adam."

"Do I have to call you sir?"

"Yes, you will."

Adam nodded. "Okay."

He moved to sit in between his parents, eyes still darting constantly around the room in case he missed anything.

"So, tell me, Adam." Merchant sat forward in his seat, seemingly oblivious to anyone else but the boy. Claire couldn't help but like the way the Head seemed genuinely interested in her son. "What sort of things do you like?"

"Rugby." Adam had no hesitation

"Rugby, eh? Anything else?"

"Swimming. Football. Running…"

Merchant grinned. "You've got a real little sportsman there, Mrs Boulton."

"And I like going down the gym, an' going to the nick and…" Adam was getting into his list.

"Easy, Ad. He doesn't want to know your life story!" John interrupted before his son went into full details about how Uncle Tony took him out in the area car and how Uncle Mickey taught him to cuff scrotes.

Merchant looked to John and Claire for the first time since the introductions. "I understand you're both police officers."

"Yeah. Detective Sergeants, based at Sun Hill."

"Oh, I know it. I've met your Superintendent a few times."

"Really?" John was busy wondering whether the Death dealer could be one of the sports centre staff.

"Are you hoping for Adam to follow in your footsteps?"

"Yeah!" Adam's reply was pure enthusiasm.

"Not if we can help it," Claire supplied, when it became obvious John's mind was elsewhere.

Adam scowled at his mum. Like that was going to put him off. He'd already grown to love his parents' jobs, right from his first visit to the nick.

"I take it you've read the prospectus?" Merchant turned his full attention on the adults. "Do you have any questions from that?"

"Can I play rugby?" Adam butted in before his parents could speak.

"Yes. You can choose to play two winter sports and two summer sports. Rugby is available."

"What about the sports teams?" That was the one thing John was really interested in. He'd only discovered what it was like to have good sporting opportunities at the age of eleven, when it'd almost been too late. He wanted Ad to have them right from the start.

"We have teams for most sports; the boys are always encouraged to participate in extra-curricular sports right from the start. We have Year 1 and Year 2 teams for each sport in pre-prep. Rugby and swimming teams are not available until Year 2. In the first year the boys just learn the basics of swimming and we only allow them to play touch rugby, for safety's sake."

Adam took all that in with shining eyes. "What else can I do?"

Merchant stood up. "Why don't I take you round the school? We can stop at the PE department and the staff can tell you everything. How does that sound?"

"Great!"

X X X

Adam didn't seem to be able to take in enough about his prospective school. After the first five minutes of the tour he gave up hanging onto John's hand and walked on his own with all the confidence in the world, half of the time side-by-side with Merchant, chatting away quite happily. John remained relatively silent, although as usual he didn't miss a thing, and Claire didn't fail to notice that once he saw Adam was comfortable, he relaxed himself.

By the time they were halfway round, John and Don were bored with seeing classroom after classroom of neat and tidy boys in grey blazers, sitting demurely paying total attention to their teachers. John tried to imagine his old school being like that, and failed miserably.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" Don hissed in his best mate's ear, as they left the Junior part of the school, the left hand block of H building and moved across to the Middle and Senior part of the building.

"God knows. And why the hell can't they just shove all the kids in together? What's with this separate school crap?" John was starting to get pissed off. Much as he wanted the best for Adam, he had more important things fighting for his attention at that moment in time. Things he was actually interested in.

Don shrugged and was about to continue the conversation when Claire turned and gave them both her fiercest look. The men exchanged knowing glances and subsided, their thoughts returning to more pressing matters.

They allowed themselves to be taken around the Senior and Middle school, then out of the main building to the Science and technology block round the back. John even put up with being taken to the opposite block and shown the music, art and drama facilities. In the end, though, his usual impatience got the better of him.

"Excuse me, Mr Merchant, but we've gotta get back to work in the next few minutes. We've gotta operation on." He had no hesitation in lying to save himself.

Claire didn't have time to kick her husband before Merchant turned his attention on them.

"The tour does go on a bit, doesn't it, Mr Boulton?"

"Too right." John was surprised to have the Head seeing his point of view.

"Perhaps we'll finish off with the PE department, then we can discuss arrangements for Adam's enrolment, if you wish? If you and Mr Beech have time, of course."

John allowed a smile. _Smarmy git._ "That'll be fine."

"We gonna see PE!" Adam yelled out.

"We'll go across now." Merchant seemed unconcerned by Adam's usual hyper behaviour.

John and Don exchanged grins as Adam grabbed their hands and dragged them off after Merchant, across the back yard to the modern PE block, standing on the edge of the expansive playing fields, housing the changing rooms, gym, swimming pool and indoor sports courts.

John was finally impressed. He had to keep hold of Adam to keep his son from hurling himself into the swimming pool, such was his enthusiasm to try it out.

"Innit great, Dad?"

John couldn't help but nod. "Yeah, mate."

He glanced across at Claire. _Can we please take off now?_ Claire just looked heavenward and gave up. When John was in that mood it honestly was like having two kids…

X X X

"What'd you reckon, then?" Claire leant back in John's arms as they sprawled across the couch together later that night. They'd finally got some peace after off-loading Adam onto Don for the night.

John grinned. "I reckon it's great we get a night to ourselves. When was the last time we got one?"

"Last week when you bribed Mickey into taking him to see that ice hockey match for the evening." Claire glared up at him. "And you know what I mean."

"The school?" John immediately went into noncommittal mode. "It was all right, I guess."

"John!"

"What! What'd you want me to say!"

"Are you gonna sit there and tell me it isn't a fantastic place and that it wouldn't be perfect for Ad?"

"Quite possibly."

She slapped his arm. "You are the most stubborn git I've ever known!"

"Thanks." He refused to rise to the bait.

Claire sat up and turned to face him.

"Come on, John. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Don likes St Martin's." She was hoping his best mate might be able to bring him round.

"Oh great."

"And Ad loved it." With a grin, she threw down her final card.

She had him. His attitude melted away, as it always did when his son was involved. "You reckon?"

"Definitely."

He pulled her back into his arms.

"So?"

He grinned. "Still no."

A week later, Adam was enrolled at St Martin's.

X X X

John arrived home with Don in tow. It was late August, over three months after Adam's fourth birthday, but even in the low evening sunshine, both men looked exhausted as they stepped out into the back garden, where Claire was throwing John's rugby ball around with Adam.

"Dad! Uncle Don!" Adam hurled himself at both of them, before allowing his dad to swing him up into his arms.

"You two look beat." Claire moved to get a kiss from John.

John grinned wryly and put Adam down. "That nutter's still running around selling dodgy steroids. Found another bodybuilder dead this morning."

"What's the total now?"

"Two bodybuilders, a swimmer and a track athlete," Don supplied, unimpressed by the whole thing.

"And they all train at the same leisure centre?" Claire hadn't had anything to do with the case, so knew practically nothing about it.

"Yeah. You'd think word would've got round by now, but they're still dropping like flies." John was equally unsympathetic towards the dead men. "Some people are really desperate to do well."

Don grinned. "Maybe you should try some for the rugby, mate."

John laughed out loud and flexed a bicep under his T-shirt. "Who needs steroids?"

Adam hurled the ball at his dad, yelling for a pass as he sprinted back off down the garden. John grinned and obliged. He was over the moon at how good his son was getting at the sport. And at swimming. He was getting to be like a fish in the water, able to swim slowly but doggedly a full length of the smaller pool. John was proud as hell of him. Adam even loved to go for a run with him in the mornings, pounding along determinedly behind his dad in his identical trainers and trackies. It meant a slow run for John, but he didn't care. It warmed his heart to have Adam sprinting along by his side.

"Hey, Ad. It's school for you in a few weeks, innit?" Don called out.

"Yep!"

"You lookin' forward to it?"

"Yep! Gonna play rugby! Dad says I'll be captain of the team!"

John shrugged helplessly. "Well, he will!"

Don grinned. "Don't tell me. He'll also be captain of the swimming, football, athletics, basketball, hockey and bloody cricket teams as well."

"Yeah. Probably."

Adam sprinted back over with the ball. "Do it again, Dad."

Don clapped John on the shoulder and headed for the side gate. "I'm off, mate. See ya tomorrow."

"Okay, later."

Adam moved to sit next to his dad as John dropped down onto the back steps. "Dad?"

"What, mate?"

"Will I get as tall as Uncle Rod when I go to school, coz he says I will."

"Well, you won't."

"Why not? Uncle Rod's sooo big!" Adam craned his neck up to demonstrate his point. "I wanna be that tall!"

"No, you don't. When you get that tall the blood loss kills brain cells. Uncle Rod proves that."

"John, don't go saying things like that!" Claire slapped his arm.

"What?" John grinned. "I reckon it's true."

Adam looked from one parents to the other and shook his head. "You're a ponce."

With that he leapt up and sprinted off down the garden, throwing his ball up in the air.

"Who taught him what a ponce was?" Claire asked.

They both looked at each other and said in unison. "Mickey."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Two weeks later, Adam began his school career. Claire fully anticipated chaos on the first morning but, as was predictable in the Boulton household, chaos was a total understatement.

To start the day off, Adam was up by half five, running around the house in his full uniform, demanding breakfast plus mental stimulation until it was time to go. John, suffering from a particularly killing hangover, refused to be shaken from his comatose state and it was left to Claire to chase around after her hyperactive son. By the time John managed to drag himself downstairs at 7:15, moaning and wearing nothing but his boxers, Claire had parked Adam in front of the TV with a bowl of cereal and was trying to iron her blouse whilst filling in a crime sheet she'd forgotten to do last night.

"John, you're not in till nine, are you?"

He collapsed against the fridge to drain a bottle of mineral water. "Eight." He just about coped with mumbling the single word.

"What?"

"I'm in at eight." He pinched the bridge of his nose as he negotiated the first full sentence of the day.

"John!"

He didn't seem in the least bothered about her mini disaster. "What now?"

"Adam's at school for nine and I've got to be in court giving evidence at exactly the same time."

John couldn't cope with that amount of information. "So?"

"So, we agreed you were gonna take him!"

Realisation dawned. "Oh…yeah."

Claire pushed him to one side so she could down her coffee in a one swallow. "What'd you want him to do, John? Catch the tube!"

"Don't worry about it." John could never panic when he had a hangover. "I'll just take him into work with me for half an hour. Don can cover for me while I drop him off."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Brilliant, John."

"Hey, it's better than nothing." John raised his voice and shouted into the living room. "Ad, you're comin' to work with me for a bit!"

"Yessss!" Adam took that news with his usual excitement.

John grinned at his wife. "See? Sorted."

"It would be if wasn't half seven and you weren't still standing there in just your bloody underwear when you're at work in half an hour!"

John merely nodded and yawned. "Yeah."

X X X

He managed to make it Sun Hill for five past eight, if only by driving like a maniac and breaking just about every traffic law there was.

"Okay, Ad." He looked across at his son as they pulled into the car park. "Now, you're not gonna tell your mam about how I drove, are you?" He could just imagine the earache he'd get.

"It was great!" Adam crowed, on a total high.

That wasn't the answer John wanted to hear. He scrambled out of the car after his son. "How about we just keep it our secret, yeah?"

Adam shrugged. "Okay, Dad."

That was the best John was going to get.

They slunk up to the office, John being careful to avoid being seen by Meadows or Deakin. Much as they liked Adam, he knew it wasn't a good idea to have them knowing that his son knew the nick just as well as they did.

"John, you're not meant to let the kid skive on his first day!" Don yelled across the second John walked through the door.

John maturely ignored him.

"Look at my uniform, Uncle Don!" Adam charged across to show off his clothes in the middle of the office.

John nearly choked trying not to laugh as Adam ran across to Duncan and shoved his new tie under the Scottish DC's nose.

"Mine's better than yours!"

Duncan grinned and held out his silk lime green with blue Xs, made exclusively by Pierre Cardin to compare with Ad's cotton navy with red stripes, made non-exclusively by St Martin's.

"Yeah, you're right, Ad."

John crossed to stand with Don.

"We've had another Death victim," Don informed him.

"Fantastic. Go on, then."

"A member of the cricket team, this time. Apparently he had a trial coming up for Essex."

"Same thing?"

"Yep, heart attack. Uniform found a bagful of tablets in his locker at the centre."

John raised an eyebrow. "That's more than any of the others had. Reckon he was selling them?"

"Could've been. Can't see the main man taking his own stuff, though. Especially if he's seen what they can do."

"A runner?"

"Sounds more likely to me."

John had a quick scan through the file. "Okay, I've gotta take Ad to school, so we'll go down the centre after, yeah?"

"Fine by me."

"Sarge, Deakin's just coming upstairs," Danny called, strolling in patting his Afro, concerned that he'd disturbed it hitting it against the top of the doorframe.

John shot across the office and grabbed Adam, neatly turning him and pushing him out onto the balcony. "Hey, Ad. Go and have a chat to Uncle Mickey for a bit, eh?"

He shut the door behind his son just as Deakin entered the office. "Morning, guv."

"I hear we've had another death victim." Was Deakin's greeting.

"Yeah."

"Better fill me in then."

John exchanged a helpless glance with Don before following Deakin into his office. The door shut behind them.

Out on the balcony, Adam and Mickey had finished comparing ties, Mickey being in a suit for the first time that year, being due in court later.

"So, you lookin' forward to your first day, then?" Mickey asked.

Adam nodded. "Yep."

Mickey detected a lack of Adam's usual enthusiasm. "Bit scared 'bout it?" he asked, knowingly.

"Bit." Adam wrinkled his nose.

"Why?"

"Coz some of the other boys are really big, aren't they?"

Mickey shrugged. "Dunno. You're not scared of them anyway, are ya?"

Adam shook his head defiantly. "No way."

"Good lad." Mickey threw one arm round the kid's small shoulders and pulled Adam closer to him. "Tell you what, though, Ad. If any of those lads at your new school did have a go, this is what I'd do…"

Less than a minute later, Adam was grinning away and nodding enthusiastically as Mickey finished his confidential whispering.

"So, if anyone gives you any trouble, you just punch 'em and yell all that at 'em. Right?"

"Right!"

Mickey ruffled his hair. "Nice one. Just remember not to say any of that in front of your mum, okay?"

"Okay, Uncle Mickey."

"Mickey, bring him back in," John shouted out. "Deakin's gone downstairs."

His confidence restored, Adam bounded back into the office ahead of Mickey.

"We goin', Dad?"

"Yeah, mate."

Don crouched down in front of his godson and held his palms to Adam. "Show us what you do if anyone has a go at ya, then."

Beaming, Adam bunched his hands into fists and did a couple of jabs at Don's palms.

"That's my boy! Show 'em who's boss!"

John grabbed his son before Don told him to kill someone. "Right, we're goin'. _Now._"

"Is Uncle Don comin'?" Adam piped up, following his dad to the door.

"Yeah."

"And Unca Dunca?"

"No."

"Can Uncle Mickey come?"

"No, Ad! Come on."

Adam frowned thoughtfully. "What about Uncle Rod?"

X X X

It took almost the whole journey to St Martin's for John to convince his son that he wasn't going to be allowed to take his entire family of uncles to drop him off.

"Why not?" Was the only thing Adam had to say once he'd exhausted his list of relatives, which had also included Tom Proctor and for some unknown reason, Danny Pearce, whom he'd only ever met once in his life.

John looked heavenward. "Coz I said so."

Thankfully, his son fell silent as John turned into the St Martin's driveway, before his dad got the excuse to strangle him. His head appeared between John and Don's seats while he took in the activity around him, as identically-uniformed boys in black trousers and grey blazers piped with blue swarmed around, yelling and shouting to each other in greeting after being separated for the long summer holidays.

"You're gonna come and pick me up, aren't you, Dad?"

"Course I will." John reached into the back to throw an arm round his son. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Right, Don?"

"Yeah! You'll love every minute of it."

Whether it convinced Adam or not, neither officer could tell, but he certainly showed no hesitation in getting out of the car when John pulled into a spare space in front of the main building.

"Come here, mate." John reached out his arm to wrap round his son's shoulders. Adam, clutching his new bag, moved close to his dad as he looked round, seeming overwhelmed by the number of boys that milled around him.

"Hey, Ad. Just remember, you're better than all of them, right?" Don ruffled his godson's hair and gave him a reassuring grin.

Adam nodded, but made sure he stayed between his dad and his uncle as they walked up to the main entrance. John saw him look up at a group of six or so boys wearing the striped navy and light blue blazers and grey trousers of the senior school, standing chatting by the steps, then quickly fix his gaze ahead when they looked back. John couldn't help but feel the urge to go up and warn the older lads off there and then. Instead, he gritted his teeth and walked up the steps into the entrance hall.

Inside, Adam's new classmates all stood around with their parents, all ridiculously neat and tidy in preparation for their first steps towards their futures. John and Don looked round, it being their turn to feel uncomfortable. All the other parents were professional people of the upper or middle classes, probably the drivers of BMWs and Range Rovers and the holders of cushy desk jobs in the City or their own companies. Even in their suits, the two detectives felt completely out of place.

"Here, John. We don't have to hang around, do we?" Don felt like he was being looked down on almost immediately.

"Nah, don't think so." _Bloody hope not anyway._

Adam let go of John's hand. He seemed to have lost his doubts about school and the extrovert sparkle was back in his eyes. John saw him looking over to group of boys standing by themselves, away from their parents.

"You wanna go and stand with them, Ad?"

Adam looked up at him. "Can I?"

"Yeah, course you can. Make some mates."

Adam looked over to the group again, slightly hesitant. Then he pulled his bag up on his shoulder and was gone, walking over to the boys. As John and Don watched, the others turned to him and within minutes they were all chatting away. John felt himself relax when he saw Adam's familiar smile was firmly fixed on his face.

They continued to stand around for a few minutes, getting more and more uncomfortable, until a woman appeared from one of the doors of the lobby and went over to speak to Adam's group. Adam ran back over to John and Don, his new mates in tow.

"Dad, we're going into 'ssembly."

"Right. We'll go, then."

Adam nodded, then hurled himself into John's arms for a bear hug.

"Don't forget to pick me up."

John held him tight. "Never. Have a good time and don't give your teacher too much trouble, eh?"

"Okay, Dad." Adam released John from his arms and stepped back, giving him the cheeky salute that had become a habit between them.

Don gave him the thumbs-up sign and the detectives headed for the door. As they went down the steps, they glanced back to see Adam, but instead of standing staring after them like they expected, he had plunged into the thick of a huge group of boys and seemed to already forgotten they were ever there. John and Don exchanged grins and headed for the car.

X X X

John had spoken the Chelmsford Sport Centre's manager four times in the past month, and they were both getting thoroughly sick of each other.

"Sergeant, I'm really getting bored with being asked these questions." Steve Johnson's patience was being tested to its limits.

"And I'm getting bored with asking them!" John snapped, not in the best of moods himself. "The quicker you cooperate, Mr Johnson, the quicker we'll leave you alone. Won't we, DS Beech?"

Don grinned wolfishly at Johnson. "Course, DS Boulton. Now, if you wouldn't mind, Mr Johnson…"

The manager looked heavenward. "Cole Reynolds was our best cricketer. Twenty years old, about the fittest bloke you could find, right at his peak. He had a trial for Essex next week, we all knew he was gonna walk it. We thought he'd be playing for England by next season."

"He have any enemies?"

"As with all the others…" Johnson gave John a glare, "No. Everyone liked him, he had loads of mates."

"Mr Johnson, your clients here must be a bit slow catching on. Five people have died, all of who are members here. Surely most people would've been put off buying _anything_ by now."

"Just what are you suggesting, Sergeant Boulton?"

"I'm just saying that you'd have thought word would've got round by now."

"I couldn't tell you anything about that. I'm the manager; I just sit in my office and do paperwork all day. I couldn't tell you the last time I even went near the locker rooms!"

"Mr Johnson, I'm not accusing you of anything."

"Good! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm busy." With that, he stormed off, leaving John and Don trying desperately not to laugh.

"What'd you reckon?" Don asked, when he managed to control his laughter.

John shrugged. "I reckon I'm getting pissed off with the whole bloody investigation. Deakin was tearing a right strip off me this morning for not having any leads and now I've got Johnson on my back. Fiver says he makes a complaint about me by the end of the week."

"We'll get something."

"Oh, come off it. This place is tighter than Fort Knox when it comes to keeping schtum. People probably don't even breathe without checking it's OK with the crowd."

Don grinned. "Wait and see what forensics come up with."

"If they get anything, I'll eat my warrant card."

"You know, mate, the amount of times you've bet that card, I reckon you should've eaten it about fifteen times over by now."

X X X

"What's up with you?"

John glanced across at Claire. "Nothing."

"Deakin have a go at you?"

"Nah, no more than usual."

"Must be the drugs case, then."

John shrugged as he turned into the driveway of St Martin's, not wanting to talk about it. He'd had enough of trying to work everything out. Jesus, so long and not even the sniff of a lead. He wasn't used to being patient when it came to wrapping up his cases.

He parked the car in front of the main entrance and snapped off his seatbelt.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

He was out of the car before Claire could say anything else. She rolled her eyes and joined him. "Fine. Be a moody git."

"I will."

But he reached out and wrapped his arm round her just as the final bell echoed around the school. Less than two minutes later, Adam appeared in the crowd flowing out of the main building. John felt a warm shadow cross his heart as he noticed his son was laughing and shouting with the same group he'd been with that morning.

"See. Told you he'd be all right." He gave Claire a squeeze. "He looks happy as hell."

Claire's face broke into a grin when she saw how happy John was for his son. "Looks like it."

Adam spotted them and sprinted over, pulling along another kid of his own age; smaller than Ad, with chocolate-brown skin and a fade haircut. He looked more streetwise than the other boys John had seen around the school. John felt a strange sense of almost relief that Adam had at least found someone like him, someone who knew what happened out there in the world. The last thing he wanted was for his son to become naïve to reality, wrapped in cotton wool whilst he passed the early, and perhaps most important, years of his life in the warm, secure world of St Martin's

"Hiya!" Adam threw himself into John's arms, reaching out to hug Claire at the same time. His face shone with pure elation.

"You have a good day?"

"Yeah! It was great!" Adam shook himself free from their arms and stepped back, waving a hand towards his friend. "This is Jarrett. He's my best mate."

"That was quick," John grinned. "You all right, Jarrett?"

"Yeah." The kid spoke with a typical South London accent and seemed to have as much confidence as Adam. "Is it right you're coppers?"

Claire couldn't help smiling. "Yeah. It's right."

Jarrett nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. See ya!"

With that he charged off to stand with another black boy in a Senior School uniform, clearly his brother.

"Hey, Dad, look what we got given." Adam recaptured his father's attention by waving a grey school cap, adorned with the St Martin's badge and again piped with the school's blue. "We gotta wear 'em for assembly."

"We've sent him to a school that wears caps!" John practically exploded. "What the hell is this, the eighteenth century!"

"John, for God's sake." Unperturbed by his moodiness, Claire playfully dropped the cap onto her husband's head. "Lots of prep schools have the kids wear caps for formal occasions. It's no big deal."

"Yeah!" Adam said defiantly, clearly proud of his new uniform.

"He's gonna turn out a poof," John muttered in disbelief.

"Am not!" Adam yelled.

"How do you know what a poof is?" his mother demanded.

"Uncle Mickey told me."

"Uncle Mickey's gonna be a dead man when I get hold of him."

John was already turning away back to the car to avoid being accused.

"Caps," he muttered to himself. "Knew I shoulda put my foot down."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Weeks flashed by. Much to Don and John's relief, the Death Drugs dealer seemed to be having a break and there hadn't been another death since the cricketer's. Adam had settled down fast at St Martin's and was already playing for the Year 1 football team, and proving to be one of the best in his year when it came to swimming. Much to Claire's delight, he was also in the top third of his class when it came to his academic results as well. Slowly, things seemed to be calming down and everyone, especially the Boulton family, were hoping the easier pace of life would last.

As expected, it didn't. John had just pulled into St Martin's on Monday morning to drop Adam off when his mobile rang.

"Boulton."

"John, it's me," came Don's voice. "We've gotta 'nother victim."

John stopped the car halfway down the drive. "Bloody hell!"

"Another trackie."

"Fantastic," John sighed. "Okay, I'm on my way."

"Dad, I'm going. See ya later." Adam, independent beyond his years, got bored of waiting.

John raised a hand in farewell to his son as Adam scrambled out of the car and sprinted off down the drive to catch up with his mates.

"Hey, John," Don spoke up. "I haven't finished yet. This trackie. He's not dead, mate."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me that before?"

"Didn't get chance! Just get down St Hugh's sharpish. He's come round enough for us to get a few sentences outta him."

"I'm there, mate." John spun the car round and took off back down the driveway on squealing tyres. Adam glanced back and rolled his eyes. _Typical_.

Twenty minutes later, John was sprinting down the corridor to ICU, dodging trolleys and nurses in his haste not to let his first lead slip through his fingers.

"Don, what's happening?"

Don got up from where he lounged in a waiting seat. "Victim's making sense. We've got five minutes to get something out of him."

"He got a name?"

"Luke McCaul. He's only a kid, nineteen, down here staying with his parents while he's on holiday from university. He runs for the uni team, so he was getting in a bit of training at the Chelmsford on his dad's membership card."

"Any previous?"

"Nothing. Doesn't seem the type to do any stuff if you ask me."

"How'd he survive?"

"Dunno, mate. I ain't a doctor. Musta managed to get his heart restarted."

"Okay, let's go and have a word with miracle boy, eh?" John gave the door a shove and led the way onto the ICU bay.

Luke McCaul didn't seem pleased to get visitors. "What'd you want?"

"I'm DS Boulton, this is DS Beech, Sun Hill," John automatically informed him.

"So?"

"We need to ask you a few questions."

McCaul looked at the ceiling. "My dad's gonna kill me."

"I think that's the least of your worries." John grabbed a chair and sat down. "Do you know the things you took were steroids?"

"Yeah. I knew."

"Do you normally do steroids?"

"No, I've never touched drugs before. We've just got this really big meet when I get back to Uni, so when this bloke offered me some stuff at the centre, I said I'd give it a go. He told me I'd knock seconds off my time if I took them for the week I was here, that I'd walk the meet."

"And you believed him?" John was incredulous.

"I was desperate!"

"Okay, who was this bloke?"

"Dunno. I don't know anyone down there."

"You telling me he just walked up to you and offered you steroids?"

"Yeah. I saw him watching me when I was doing a few laps round the track. Then he came over to me in the locker room after and said he could help me out if I wanted to improve my performance a bit."

John sighed. "Description?"

"God, I don't know! About thirty, pretty small, about five nine, mousey brown hair, London accent. Just wore trackies and t shirt."

"Build?"

"Medium, he looked pretty fit. He said his name was Chris, but he could've just made it up."

"Remember anything else?" Don asked.

McCaul shook his head. "That it?"

"Depends if I get bored at the office and decide to annoy you some more." John gave the usual reply to that question, which he absolutely hated, and got up.

"Luke, if we sent in a composition artist, would you cooperate while we get an e-fit?" Don asked.

"Will you catch him?"

"With your help, we might well do."

"Okay. I'll do it. I don't want anyone else taking those bloody death pills."

John grinned for the first time that day. "You're not as useless as you look, Luke."

X X X

With the e-fit not going to be available until the next morning due to Luke McCaul still being in a dodgy condition, John packed up early that evening and drove over to St Martin's to catch the last ten minutes of Adam's football practice.

He was the only parent there and was content to lean against the wall of the PE block as he watched the 11 boys charge around the pitch in hot pursuit of the ball, covered in mud and obviously loving every minute of it. John was proud to see Adam was always right in the thick of the action, yelling to his team-mates as he sprinted up and down the length of pitch, fearless in his tackles and surprisingly skilful on the ball.

"Which one's yours?" The referee/coach jogged off the pitch to stand next to John.

"Adam Boulton."

"I know him. He's got real ability for sports. One of the best swimmers in his year."

John nodded.

"I'm Chris Bentley, PE teacher and coach of just about every sports team we've got." The coach pulled his woollen Hammers hat further down over his ears before holding out his hand.

"John Boulton, Adam's father." John shook with him.

"You play?" Bentley indicated to the pitch.

"Nah. I'm a rugby player."

"That's where Adam gets it from. He's been desperate to play since his first PE lesson."

John smiled genuinely. Bentley was the first St Martin's teacher he'd come across who wasn't a complete prat.

"I'm a rugby man myself," Bentley continued. "Union."

"Yeah, me too."

"Who'd you follow?"

"Saracens."

Bentley grinned. "Wasps, me."

He raised his whistle and let out a couple of sharp blasts. "Okay, lads. Let's wrap it up for the night. Gotta save some energy for the match tomorrow."

The boys sprinted off the pitch, studs clattering as they touched concrete.

"Hi, Dad!" Adam yelled out, hurtling across to John.

John automatically looked for Jarrett legging it along behind his son. Those two seemed inseparable.

"No Jarrett?"

"He don't like footy," Adam announced. "I scored two goals, Dad!"

"Nice one, mate."

Adam was flying high. "Can we go to McDonald's, Dad? And can Jarrett come round tomorrow? Is Uncle Don at home? Can…"

"Whoa, slow down! You don't have to get everything out in one sentence!"

Adam grinned. "Hey, Sam!"

With that he dived off to talk to one of his mates. John grinned at Bentley.

"Kids, eh?"

"Tell me about it, I have to work with them all day. You coming to watch Adam tomorrow?"

"Can't. Not finishing work till six."

"What'd you do?"

"I'm a detective sergeant."

Bentley looked up. "Really…? Must be interesting." He smiled. "Right, I'd better go and let those lot into the changing rooms."

He jogged off across the yard to the PE block.

"Dad!" Adam appeared at John's side again. "Can Sam come round tomorrow as well?"

X X X

Desperate as he was to see the e-fit, the next day John was in court until nearly 4pm and had no way of getting his hands on the most important piece of paper in the Death Drug case. He sat impatiently in the witness stands, waiting for the jury to deliver their verdict and wishing they'd bloody get on with it. He'd given up caring weeks ago whether the screwed-up junkie he'd nicked for burglary nearly a month ago got sent down or not. He had more important things to bother about. He glanced at his watch for the millionth time that hour, and prayed for God to give him a break.

Don too was out of the office all day on separate enquiries with Danny Glaze, having landed the 2 till 10 shift. As it turned out, he didn't get a phone call until gone half three from Kerry, telling him the e-fit had just been faxed through. As eager as John to have a look at the infamous suspect without an identity, Don left Danny to finish up the enquiries and took off back to the office.

"Kerry, you got something for me?"

Kerry shoved a piece of paper at him, not being in one of her best moods. Don looked at it and was disappointed to find he'd never seen the bloke in his life. Fantastic.

"Does anyone know him, Kerry?"

"Nope. No one's gotta clue."

Don scowled. "Right. If anyone wants to know where I am, I've gone to court."

John was out getting a coffee when Don jogged down the corridor to him, holding a single piece of paper.

"Think we've gotta 'nother dead end, mate. No one's gotta clue who he is."

John turned to face him. "Typical I should've known. Let's have a look then."

Don handed over the E. John glanced cursorily at it. His jaw dropped.

"Fucking hell!"

"What? You nicked him before?"

"No, you prat! That's Ad's bloody PE teacher!"

X X X

Claire had agreed to stand in for John as Adam's supporter at his football match, and stood dutifully on the touchline, shouting encouragement to her young sportsman. She knew Adam would've preferred it if his dad were there, but apparently she was better than nothing, judging by the occasional grins he flashed her.

"Claire!" She heard a shout behind her.

She turned to see John and Don pounding across the back yard, still in their suits. "What're you doing here?"

"It's the PE teacher," Don announced, trying to get his breath.

"What is?"

"The death dealer!"

Claire looked at her husband. "You've gotta be joking!"

"I was chatting to him about bloody rugby last night!" John's face was a mixture of anger and disbelief, a combination that told Claire he wasn't going to be messed about.

"John, tell me you're not gonna nick him now."

"What else am I supposed to do? Ask him to come into the station when the match has finished!"

Claire shrugged helplessly. "John…"

But he was already storming onto the pitch, with Don right behind him, his only thought being to get that bastard as far away from Adam as possible.

"Oi, Bentley. We need a word."

"I'm in the middle of a match, Mr Boulton!" Bentley stopped running after the group of boys fighting for the ball.

"Do I look like I care?" John was enraged that a drug dealer had gone within 50 yards of his son, let alone taught him football.

"What's this about!"

"This is about me arresting you for dealing in illegal substances, namely performance-enhancing steroids, at the Chelmsford Sports centre."

By that time, the game had stopped and 22 Year Ones stood watching the unfolding scene. John saw Adam, standing out as taller than his contemporaries, bent over his knees to catch his breath, but his eyes taking everything in.

"You can't arrest me!" Bentley started up.

"Watch me."

Bentley stared at the detectives for a minute, then he turned on his heel and made a run for it. Immediately, John was on him, bearing down on top of the PE teacher until he was close enough to slam into him in a rugby tackle. As Don joined his mate to slap cuffs onto Bentley's wrists, the excitedly chattering boys feel deathly silent. John got to his feet, allowing Don to drag Bentley up.

"Dad?" He turned to see Adam standing behind him, face red with exertion, school strip covered in mud, looking completely confused. "What're you doing?"

"Um…" John searched for a good excuse.

"Are you arresting Mr Bentley?"

"Yeah, Ad. I have to."

"Now?" Adam's forehead creased.

John nodded. "Why don't you go back to your mates, yeah?"

Adam didn't move. "But I like him, Dad."

"I know, mate."

Adam just looked at him for a minute. Then he turned and trudged back off across the pitch to his team-mates. Another teacher immediately hustled them off to the changing rooms. John saw his son turn back to look at him again before the teacher put her arm round him and took him off with the others.

John had never felt worse than at that moment.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Jayne, mate, you CANNOT insult the mighty Wasps (my team) when you support the Cherries!

CHAPTER 6

"I don't want you in the interview, John."

John's head snapped up, his furious gaze meeting with Deakin's calm eyes. "You what!"

"You're too involved. I'm not blind, I can see you want to punch Bentley's lights out."

"That bastard has been around my son! How'd you expect me feel!"

"I'm not blaming you, John. I'd feel the same way…"

"Guv, I don't want to kill him, I just want to nail him," John forced himself to speak quietly.

"No, you want to do both and I'm not going to give you the chance to do the first."

John felt his temper rise. "I can handle it." The words were said through gritted teeth.

"I'm going to take the interview with Don."

"Guv!"

"I'm not changing my mind on this one, John. I'm trying to keep you out of trouble."

"Am I expected to be grateful!"

"Just go and get a coffee or something."

"I don't want a bloody coffee…" John started hotly, but Deakin was already walking away, down the corridor to the interview room.

"John, I understand you want to protect Adam, but going at it like this isn't the way to do it," Deakin told him, before shutting the interview room door in his face.

John glared furiously at it for a minute, willing his eyes to burn a hole through the wood. In the end he spun round and stormed off through custody, barely resisting the urge to punch the door.

He slammed the cage door behind him, his feet pounding into the ground as he walked down to sit on the raised platform next to the ramp. Slowly, the blood boiling inside him began to cool and he stopped clenching his fists as his muscles relaxed. He leant forward over his knees and closed his eyes.

"You all right, sarge?" A familiar Liverpool drawl reached his ears.

He looked up to find Cass Rickman sitting next to him. Anyone else and he would've told them where to go, but he undeniably liked Cass. She was even more fanatical about Saint Helens than he was and would always be over to chat about the latest game if they were in the canteen at the same time.

"John?" She prompted again.

He sighed. "I fucked up."

She grinned. "That's unusual, innit? You got a complaint against you?"

"No, not that sort of fuck up."

"What sort then?"

John rubbed at his hair. "Adam."

"Ey?"

"I did something… heat of the moment… and I shouldn't have done. Ad was there…. Christ, I really screwed up."

"John, you're making even less sense than normal. What'd you do that was so bad?"

"I nicked Ad's PE teacher in the middle of his football match."

Her jaw dropped. "You didn't!" She couldn't stop a laugh from forcing its way out. "In front of all Adam's mates?"

"Yep."

Cass fought the urge to kill herself laughing at the image she'd conjured up in her head. "You were just doing your job, sarge. If you had to nick the bloke, then you had to do it."

"It's not like Ad's gonna see it that way, is it?"

"Explain it too him."

John shook his head. "He looked mortified, Cass. He didn't know where to put himself. I shouldn't have done it in front of everyone."

"Come on, sarge, you had to. I wouldn't worry about it."

John smiled ruefully and stood up. "Yeah. Thanks, Cass. I'll see you later."

He walked away still unconvinced.

X X X

"I can't tell you who the supplier is!"

"I think you can, Mr Bentley!" Deakin leant forward over the table. "You don't seem to realise how much trouble you're in. You could go down for a long time for this. Why take all the blame?"

"You don't understand."

"Explain it to me, then."

"The bloke's family."

"Your supplier is in your family?"

Bentley nodded.

"Go on," Deakin pressed, sensing he was breaking.

"He…He's my brother-in-law."

"Does he have a name?"

Bentley's head dropped into his hands. "I can't…"

"Prison is not a very nice place, Mr Bentley. You don't want to be in it for any longer than you absolutely have to be."

There was a long silence.

"His name, Mr Bentley."

It took nearly a minute before Bentley raised his head again.

"Steve. Steve Johnson."

X X X

"I could've got the supplier out of him, guv."

"John, will you shut up about it! It's over and done with, so just let it go!"

John leant back in his seat, scowling, as Deakin swung the car into the Chelmsford's front car park. Don and Mickey pulled up alongside them in the Astra.

"We goin' for it, guv?" Mickey called, through his open window.

"Yeah, let's do it."

The four men exited their cars and strode in through the front entrance in a group. Deakin lead the way straight past the protesting receptionist and barged into Johnson's office.

"Where he is?" Don yelled at the receptionist.

"By the pool with one of the lifeguards. What's going…?"

The four shoved past her and pounded down the corridor to the changing rooms. John pushed in front of Deakin and charged through the room, leaping over the footbath out into the main area of the pool. Johnson stood a few metres down, talking to a lifeguard.

"Mr Johnson?" John raised his voice as he strode down towards the manager. "Can we have a word, please?"

Johnson seemed anything but panicked. "What now, sergeant?"

John got there ahead of the other three and grabbed Johnson's arm. "Steve Johnson, I'm arresting you under suspicion of supplying a controlled substance…"

He got no further. Before he could move a muscle, Johnson had head-butted him full in the face and was sprinting down the edge of the pool towards the fire exit. As John crashed down onto the floor, the other three barrelled past in hot pursuit, leaping over him with the expected lack of sympathy. Him getting caught in a punch-up wasn't exactly a rarity.

"Fucking hell!" John shoved the lifeguard out of the way and leapt to his feet. He was just in time to see Johnson try to dodge round Deakin, losing his footing as he did so. The manager went headfirst into the pool, a tangle of flailing limbs and arms.

"Guv, I've got him!" John yelled, brushing off any humiliation he may have sustained and sprinting to the brink of the pool. He threw off his suit jacket and dived in without hesitation, pulling himself through the water with long, powerful strokes that would've left the others standing. He had Johnson in a neck lock before the manager knew what was happening.

"Nice one, John," Don yelled, making no move to go and help his mate.

"Now get out of the pool before you bleed in it," Deakin added unsympathetically, indicating to John's bloodied nose.

John scowled and began to swim for the edge. As Don and Mickey reached out to take Johnson from him, John gave a wicked grin and stopped kicking, allowing himself to sink well under the surface, pulling Johnson down with him. When he resurfaced a good twenty seconds later, Johnson had swallowed nearly half the pool.

"Oh, sorry," John grinned at him. "Cramp."

X X X

He slipped his key silently into the front door and let himself in. It was gone 9:30, Adam was probably in bed and Claire was always having a go at him for disturbing the neighbours when he returned home late. Usually he made as much noise as he could, just to be difficult, but that night he just couldn't be bothered.

"John?" Claire called to him from the living room as he dropped his jacket at the bottom of the stairs, kicked off his sodden shoes and threw his still-damp trousers in a similar direction.

"Yeah, it's me." He wandered through to join her.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on the fact that he was wearing just his boxers and wet shirt. "Good night?"

He touched his right eye, already swollen and accompanied the bruising spreading across his cheekbone.

"Yeah, fantastic. Loved every minute of it."

He grabbed the pair of jeans he'd left draped over the back of the armchair, although he couldn't remember why, and pulled them on before dropping down next to his wife on the couch.

"Is Ad in bed?"

"Yeah. I don't think he's asleep though. He said he wanted to wait for you to get home."

"I really fucked up at the school, didn't I?"

Claire remained diplomatically silent.

"I was just so worked up that Bentley had been around him. I couldn't handle the fact a drug dealer had taught my son."

"I know, John."

"I didn't mean to embarrass Ad. I just didn't think… I only wanted to protect him."

"He'll get over it."

"The look on his face, though. What if I've screwed everything up with his friends for him?"

"John, you won't have. They'll have forgotten all about it tomorrow. And so will Ad."

John allowed a smile and got up. "I'm gonna go and have a word with him."

He stopped to change into a dry T-shirt upstairs, before padding softly into Adam's room. His son was in bed but his eyes were wide open, almost thoughtful, as if he was working things through in his mind.

"You all right, mate?" John moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Adam nodded.

"Listen, I'm sorry about what happened at school."

"I liked Mr Bentley, Dad."

"Yeah. I know you did."

"Why'd you have to arrest him, then?"

"Coz he'd done something bad. He hurt some people."

Adam propped himself up on his elbow. "Did he beat them up?"

"No, not hurt them like that."

"Did he sell them dope?" Adam seemed prepared to go through the entire list of crimes he knew about.

"Something like that."

Adam was silent for a minute.

"Did the others say something about what happened?"

"Yeah. Some of them were laughing about it, and Alexander said it was my fault coz you were my dad. But I hit him and he didn't say it again."

John couldn't help laughing at his son's serious account of events.

"And some of the big boys were there. They kept talking about police 'tality or something."

"You mean brutality?"

"Yeah, and they kept pointing at me and saying stuff. But one of Jarrett's brothers, Aaron, was there, and he told them to leave me alone. And he's older than them, an' he's a prefect, so they went."

"Good."

Adam nodded. "All of Jarrett's brothers look out for me."

"Yeah? How many's he got?"

"Three. Aaron's eleven, and Devon and Tay are twins; they're seven."

John rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, Ad. I'm sorry I didn't wait till your mates were out of the way before I arrested Mr Bentley. I should've done. And I'm sorry the other boys laughed at you."

"They won't do it again, not after I hit Alexander, coz they don't want to get hit."

John grinned. "Is that how you sort everything out, you just go and punch people?"

"Yeah." Adam nodded, as if it was the perfect solution to everything.

"All right, then." John couldn't be bothered getting into a discussion with his son about it being wrong to just hit people. He'd leave that to Claire.

"Dad? Is Mr Bentley coming back?"

"No. You won't see him again, Ad."

"I'm not gonna be stopped from playing football, am I?"

"Course not. You're great at football. I was really proud watching you play."

A grin lit Adam's face. "Yeah?"

John nodded, his own face breaking into a smile as Adam reached out for a hug. He wrapped his arms around his son and held him close. "It'll be all right tomorrow, Ad. Everything's gonna sort itself out."

He stayed with Adam for another ten minutes, until his son fell asleep. As he stood in the doorway, watching Adam with a smile of pride on his face, he felt Claire's arms round his waist.

"He all right?"

John nodded. "Yeah. You're right, he'll have forgotten all about it tomorrow."

They stood together in the doorway for a while, arms wrapped round each other, quietly watching their son. John exhaled a long, slow breath, and relaxed against Claire.

"Nothing'll ever hurt you whilst you got me, Ad."

END


End file.
